Jeff
by SnowFallsSilverOnRoute37
Summary: Jeff the Killer fic. A story I wrote to stop JTK freaking me out. Whorish druggie plus serial killer equals true love! Right? (M for drug use, bloody makeout scenes and excessive cuss words)


**A/N Uh, yeaaaahhhh... in my defense I have an overactive imagination. I read the (not that scary) JTK pasta and my mom decided to get darker curtains right around then, and usually I write about whatever scares me so I can see it in a different perspective and I feel better.**

**The writing doesn't have to be good.**

**Review if this wasn't terrible!**

**-Meri**

* * *

Kyrah Betancourt sat underneath a tree in a park somewhere, surrounded by long, lush grass as a warm drizzling rain made a soothing patting noise on the cobblestone path a couple feet from her.

Eleven.

Eleven years of experience since she started experimenting with boyfriends and such at thirteen, it'd been on-and-off with she didn't even know how many assbags before now.

Twenty-four.

She was twenty-four, she should be relieved.  
College guys could be dicks all the same.

No. She forbade herself to think too much, and just enjoy the warmth of a summer's eve before she had to get back to her lower-middle-class apartment.

Jamie had been different, though.

Wait- no he hadn't.

She'd thought he'd been deeper than beauty goes.

She had.

But when she started dressing her age, it became apparent that he was just another skirt-chaser.

Kyrah sighed.

Just once, she'd like to be with someone who didn't give a crap what she looked like.

Picking up her laptop, the young woman's fingers molded into the callus of the keyboard's faded letters, as they so often had. She began typing, but grunted in frustration and closed the lid again, setting off to go "home". _Home, my ass._

_Home was with Mom and Dad._  
_Home was with Jamie._  
_Home was home._  
_Home is not here._

She was numb as she sat on the cheap, broken-down old bus.  
Come to think of it, she'd been feeling that way for a long, long time.  
By extension, she'd felt nothing.  
No highs.  
No lows.  
No happiness.  
No sadness.  
No anger.  
No frustration.  
_Nothing._

Settling down into her depressing apartment, she opened her laptop back up, and a headline on the MSN home page caught her eye.  
"Jeff the Killer Story Becomes Reality", it read.  
A spark of recognition stirred inside Kyrah.  
She knew that story.

A creepypasta to be precise.  
It wasn't that scary.  
But that Jeff guy, hoo-ey!  
He was bone-chilling.

When she was fourteen she'd read the story, and her overdeveloped mind had immediately conjured up horrific images to go with it.  
She hadn't been able to sleep.  
That night.  
Or the following three days.  
Counting back, Jeff would be, what? Her age? Older?  
But MSN was losing its credibility.

And the thought of the freakishly deformed kid was creeping her out again, the faulty hinges on her door not helping with their continuous creaking and clattering.  
_Fuck, I need me a trip._  
She picked up the joint lying on the table and lit it, trying to talk herself out of feeling too guilty.

_Doesn't make me a druggie._  
_It's legal in Amsterdam._

Putting the rolled piece of stuff to her mouth, she inhaled deeply.  
Again and again.  
When finally her head was spinning and her eyelids were heavy (not to mention the chair next to her starting to come alive), she went off to bed.  
Actually, she smashed into a wall and was conked out on the ground but to someone who's high it's all the same shit.

Hours later Kyrah was woken by an oddly harsh, cold breeze.  
"Heeeeelllll. Did I..." She took a minute to order her thoughts.  
"D'I zleeeeep throooo zuh-mer?"  
She slapped herself across the face, trying to think instead of speaking.

_Did I sleep through summer?_

_No way._

_I'd be dead._

_Am I dead?_

She sat in fetal position for at least a few hours, happily, until she knew she wasn't dead, because a very unpleasant sensation was travelling down her back, like someone was trailing a finger over her spine.  
Turning around, she was shocked to discover a pair of shrunken eyes, framed with crusty dried blood, a mop of black-singed hair and... a smile. A bloody smile carved deep into a chalk-white leathery face.

"Crap. How high am I?" Happily, she discovered she could talk normally.

The thing responded, to her amazement.

"I'm not an illusion." It had quite a pleasant voice. Low and husky.

"Wait." Kyrah's eyes opened wide with a flash of recognition.

"J-Jeff?" _Okay, if I wasn't scared shitless before..._

"How-?"

"You're not exactly incognito, if that's what you think. Your life story was posted on the internet ten-odd years ago."

"Ah." The thing- Jeff- was contemplating this, seemingly.

"So, you're here to kill me, sir? Go about your business as if I wasn't awake." Her tone was mocking now. _God, mouth, if you shut up now I'll never stuff another penis inside you._

"Mm. There's a reason..." His voice cracked- unused to speaking. "There's a reason I've woken you."

"Is that so?"

"Would you like to play a game with me?"

"What sort of a game?" Kyrah's tone was playful.

"This sort."

He pressed his freakishly large mouth to hers and chapped, bleeding lips met soft, pink ones as the two shared a searing kiss.

"I see." Kyrah continued as if nothing had happened. "Do you play this game with many young women?"

"Would you like me to lie?"

"Just be silent."

"Do not command me." His pleasant voice had taken on a fierce, possessive tone.

She kissed him this time, and it was more aggressive and fiery.

She bit her lip until it bled.

He felt compelled to lick off the blood.

It continued like this, and finally she was tired.  
He carried her to her bed, bridal style.  
She lay on her side, curled up sweetly.

"Go to sleep, my sweet."

"Only resting." Still a playful tone, though it was slightly slurred.

One final kiss. Very soft and tender, but the male was holding a knife in his left hand. He moved it to the middle of her back and she gasped as the blade took her life's blood from her.

"Go to sleep." He repeated, stroking her hair to the side as she smiled and closed her eyes, a serene expression on her face.  
With her final breath, she spoke two simple words.

"Good

night."


End file.
